


Light Up the Trenches Where My Heart Lies

by Is0lde



Series: It's How You Learn [2]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Banter, Character Study, Dai Bendu (Star Wars), Domestic Fluff, Dominant Obi-Wan Kenobi, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Mental Health Issues, No Beta We Die Like Democracy With Thunderous Applause, Sparring, Submissive Anakin Skywalker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:47:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27579344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Is0lde/pseuds/Is0lde
Summary: “Attachment,” Obi-Wan echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Can you elaborate?”“You know, fear of losing the people you love.”“That’s what you think attachment is?”(Or; Obi-Wan helps Anakin begin to overcome some of his fears before they grow wild and untamed)
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Series: It's How You Learn [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2015881
Comments: 61
Kudos: 208





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who were waiting for a sequel to _It's How You Learn_ this probably isn't what you're expecting. This sequel is inspired by another prompt from the Obikin Discord channel "Temperature Play" by [Xeniaraven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xeniaraven/pseuds/xeniaraven) and it's gone a bit off the rails like the last one, but in a fun way. But you may be wondering where the spicy tags are. There will be spicy porn I just haven't finished it yet hahahahah! So keep an eye on the tags during the next update because there will definitely be a lot more. For now enjoy some good emotional hurt/comfort and a bit of philosophizing and, if this is as far as you go, thank you so much for reading!
> 
> PS. This work features words and phrases from the [Dai Bendu Conlang](https://dai-bendu-conlang.tumblr.com/) created by [ghostwriterofthemachine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostwriterofthemachine/pseuds/ghostwriterofthemachine), [loosingletters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loosingletters/pseuds/loosingletters) and [aroacejoot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroacejoot/pseuds/aroacejoot). It is a stunning project and I encourage you to check it out!
> 
> Edit: For flow purposes, this fic is probably going to be four chapters long now. It keeps growing, oops!

_Would your love in all its finery_

_Tear at the darkness all around me_

_Until I can breathe again_

_Until I believe again_

\- _Trainwreck_ , Sarah McLachlan

* * *

The familiar press of Coruscant’s mental static pressed in on Anakin’s shields as their transport descended into the upper atmosphere. He raised stronger ones, carefully constructed over a decade of calling this planet home and felt his bone-deep weariness settle heavier over him. The LAAT/i jostled slightly with the turbulence, banging Anakin’s shoulder against the wall. Nestled against his arm beside him Ahsoka stirred with a quiet groan. Carefully he soothed a hand down one of her lekku in a motion that often calmed her and she relaxed once more back into her doze. 

The last campaign had been a brutal slog for both master and apprentice. Anakin would be happy to never set foot in a jungle again, especially one with spiked trees and creatures that howled into the night, keeping the entire 501st up with their cries. His skin was chafed from the persistent humidity and the near-unending rainfall that left his robes soaked for an entire month. Finally, though insomnia was an old friend, this exhaustion he felt was on another level entirely. Truthfully Anakin was looking forward to the quiet comforts of his and Ahsoka’s shared quarters; the warmth of his kitchen where not a single ration bar would be in sight, the softness of his bed with the heavy comforters that kept the drafty coolness of the Temple at bay and the blissful resonance of the Temple’s Force signature, clear as crystal, keeping out the cacophony of the city around them. 

Most of all he was looking forward to seeing Obi-Wan again. Anakin had never particularly relished the distance that often separated them, but the evolution of their relationship into a romantic one certainly made the separation all the more difficult. He missed Obi-Wan’s guidance, the reassurance that his presence brought and the way he made Anakin’s heart grow too big when he smiled or cracked a joke, even if it was at Anakin’s expense. 

He missed the sex too, but that was secondary to experiencing the unveiled glow of Obi-Wan’s love, no longer hidden. He felt a flower, devoid of sunlight long enough for his leaves to develop discolouration at the edges and his petals to droop.

Sighing Anakin leaned his temple on the bulkhead, letting his eyes slip shut. The vibrations of the craft rattled through him and futilely he grasped at sleep, even if for a few moments. At this point, he’d even settle for meditation. But neither came, leaving him to the relentless drone of the planet below and his thoughts. Thoughts that he’d rather not examine lest they cut him with their sharp jagged edges. 

Anakin knew it was dangerous to keep them suppressed. He should face his fears head-on and with mindfulness. Emphasis on the word _should_. But the campaign had been bloody and brutal—something of a trend the longer the war dragged on—and it was taxing just trying to keep the frayed ends of his screaming mind together long enough to keep his men and Ahsoka from giving up the fight and giving in to despair. The last thing he wanted to do was examine the fissures in his own mind. 

“Sir?” 

Anakin peeled an eye open to see Appo approach, his emotions almost seeming contrite in the Force. 

“We’re just making the final approach to the Temple now,” Appo continued. “You might want to wake up the Commander.” 

Anakin nodded and gently shook Ahsoka’s shoulder. “Come on, Snips. You need to be awake for a little longer.” 

Ahsoka groaned and cracked a yawn, sharp teeth flashing like a tiny predator. “Being awake sucks, _Jaieh_ 1.” 

Anakin’s aching eyes agreed. “Yeah, but the last thing we want is you falling on your face when we land.” 

Ahsoka turned her face into his arm. “Just because that happened to you once—”

“Hey, no one needs to be reminded of that,” he admonished, gently flicking a montral. Ahsoka lazily swatted at him but managed to drag herself up into a proper sitting position, looking about as tired as Anakin felt. She wavered slightly and groaned again, with added emphasis.

“I’m going straight to bed when we get home and sleeping for six-hundred years,” she proclaimed, rubbing the heel of her palm into her eye. She then dragged her hand down her face, letting it fall with a slap on her thigh.

Distantly an old memory tugged at him, dragged up no doubt by his exhaustion from a place he had carefully locked it away. Hot dusty streets, setting binary suns, a little boy leaning into his mother’s skirts as they trudged their way home after another long day at work. A similar whining declaration of his own on the boy’s lips. Opening his mouth Anakin’s voice harmonized with the recollection of his mother’s reply.

“That’s an awfully long time,” he hummed, his heart stirring with bittersweetness. “I’d miss you.” 

Ahsoka huffed out a weak giggle and bumped her arm against his as she swayed. “Okay, I’ll wake up for dinner once a day but that’s _all_.” 

“Well, _if that’s all_ ,” he teased as the familiar sensation of the transport descending made his stomach flip and he reached up to grab one of the safety bars, tugging Ahsoka against his side. She leaned against him gratefully, warmth humming across their training bond. If Anakin clung to it a little more tightly than normal she did not seem to notice.

Anakin winced when the doors opened and the golden light of the Temple hanger bay and the Coruscant sunset—or dawn, he hadn’t paid attention to the local time when they left—flooded into the dim passenger area of the LAAT/i. Dragging both himself and his exhausted padawan to their feet he raised his right hand and clapped the sergeant on the spaulder. “Get some rest when you return to base, Appo. You need it,” he said as he passed, heading for the exit, letting go of Ahsoka now that she was more ambulatory and letting her forge ahead. “Actually, tell everyone to get some rest. I doubt the brass is going to let shore-leave last long.” 

“We’ll do that only if you promise to as well, Sir,” Appo replied, his tone wry. 

“Touché,” he said, offering a haphazard wave as he hopped down. The bustle of the hanger greeted him like an old friend and, despite his weariness, the crystal clear harmony of the Jedi Temple’s signature bolstered him. Casting his gaze about, he spotted Ahsoka a few feet away, making a beeline for Obi-Wan. 

_Obi-Wan_.

The rose-gold of the twilight caught in his old master’s hair, setting it aflame and turning the auburn locks coppery. The laugh lines on his face seemed deeper in this light but they only made Obi-Wan more beautiful, speaking to a life of joy in spite of all its sorrows. A heady warmth suffused and dispersed itself through Anakin’s body, stemming from his heart. It felt like his whole being was singing. Like a moth to a flame, he drew himself closer.

“Master Kenobi,” Ahsoka greeted as she quite literally walked into him, planting her face into his chest with an over-dramatic groan. Strong arms wrapped around her, enveloping the youngest member of their lineage into the soft folds of his robe. Chuckling Obi-Wan raised his mutable slate-coloured eyes, almost green in this light, to Anakin’s. 

“ _Tamah qa brok vaversi, ji enoah qa mikodail orhma bika_ 2,” he said, warm and soft as Anakin came over to rest by his side. There was concern in Obi-Wan’s eyes and it thrummed across their bond. Anakin sent back a weak reassurance and tired contentment. “You both look dead on your feet.” 

“The _living_ dead,” Ahsoka mumbled, nuzzling further into Obi-Wan’s embrace as his hand began absently petting her back lekku. 

“Ah yes, zombies,” Obi-Wan genially agreed. “But zombies I’m more than happy to see for once.”

“Mmmm,” Anakin murmured, already feeling better with Obi-Wan so close, and the press of Coruscant deafened behind the walls of their home. A part of him was jealous of Ahsoka, wrapped up warm and safe in his arms. He remembered doing the exact same thing when his master returned from a solo mission, demanding the comfort of his embrace. Nothing could hurt him when he was held in Obi-Wan’s arms. Yet Anakin knew he would have Obi-Wan all to himself later and he could not begrudge his padawan too much for desiring the same contentment. Carefully he leaned into Obi-Wan’s side, happy to just be close once more after a month apart. 

“Hello, dear heart,” Obi-Wan chuckled. “Would you like a welcome home hug too?”

Dropping his head down onto Obi-Wan’s shoulder Anakin nodded. His body ached for it.

“Alright then, come here,” Obi-Wan said, wrapping an arm around his back. Anakin shifted to stand behind Ahsoka, squishing her between her two masters, and enveloped his small family in his arms. He sank into the familiarity of the three of them together, Force signatures curling together in a long-awaited reunion. It struck Anakin suddenly that he could hold the entirety of his world in his arms. It was as humbling as it was terrifying. Life was so fleeting, he could easily lose both and they could just as easily lose him. 

All the warmth and contentment dropped out from under his feet in a thousand sharp shards as sticky dark fear seized his heart in its claws. Repressing a horrified sob Anakin enfolded them all tighter, nuzzling his head into the crook of Obi-Wan’s neck. He fought back the sudden onslaught of tears and tried desperately to find the warmth again, the golden glow.

“Oh, my dear ones,” Obi-Wan murmured, gently disengaging from the embrace, but keeping a grounding hand on both padawan and master. Anakin felt the incisive gaze flick over both of them and immediately felt shame, trying to crimp the flow of anxiety that was no doubt flowing along both of his mental bonds. Obi-Wan found his mechanical hand and gave it a gentle but firm squeeze. Anakin clung to it, letting Obi-Wan’s light keep him afloat amongst the black sea that was his fears, large and small and seemingly infinite. 

Meeting his master’s eyes Anakin saw gentleness and acceptance in them paired with the steely determination of General Kenobi ready to organize an assault. “None of that now. You’ve had a long journey. Let's get you both settled and fed, shall we?” 

And that’s how Anakin found himself and Ahsoka being more or less dragged along by Obi-Wan through the Temple. Occasionally fellow Jedi would raise a hand in greeting, calling out well wishes of welcome and safe returns. Obi-Wan would cheerfully reply while continuing to forge ahead, his apprentices in tow behind him like two particularly sleep-deprived ducklings. Before he knew it Anakin was being led to the entrance of his own apartment, _Skywalker & Tano _emblazoned on the door. The glass Shili good-luck charm that dangled beneath the nameplate jangled as Obi-Wan unlocked it. 

Anakin’s apartment that he shared with Ahsoka was nothing like the one he had grown up in with Obi-Wan. For one, it faced the rising sun rather than the setting one and the room was already filling with the warmth of the growing day, the light tinged almost green from the plethora of plants that grew in mismatched pots by the windows. The furniture was similarly mixed, the two of them requesting this-and-that as they found a need for it, which was rare for two people who rarely spent any quality time in the space. They prioritized warmth and comfort over aesthetics, everything plush and made from natural fabrics. Yet for all that they were here few and far between the Force glowed with comfort and embraced Anakin as he crossed the threshold with echoes of laughter embedded in its signature. 

“I’ll make some tea, you two get settled,” Obi-Wan said, briefly resting his hand on Anakin’s deltoid before heading to the kitchen. Anakin felt bereft without his touch and stared at his retreating back until he vanished around the corner.

“Home sweet home,” Ahsoka mumbled, leaning into Anakin again and drawing his attention. Looking down he saw her close her eyes. “I’m so tired I don’t even think I can make it to bed. Just let me sleep on the floor!” 

“Come on, don’t make me carry you,” Anakin said, wrapping an arm around Ahsoka’s back to bolster her and began steering them both towards her room. The door was decorated with flimsy posters from places they had been and pictures of her friends. More than a few featured certain troopers of the 501st. “Let’s get you settled.”

“Ugh,” she articulated but shuffled along beside him and they made their way into her room like a particularly uncoordinated botched science experiment. Anakin didn’t have the energy to reprimand or tease her for the unmade bed or the still dirty clothes strewn about on the floor from when they left in a hurry the last time they were lucky enough to spend time here. With a groan Ahsoka fell face first onto the mattress, grabbing at the haphazardly strewn comforter and trying to pull it around her. 

Sighing fondly Anakin crouched down by her legs. “Hold on, Snips, let me at least get your boots off first, you heathen.” 

Ahsoka mumbled something unintelligible into her pillow as Anakin worked on gently removing her footwear, setting each down and out of the way so she wouldn’t trip over them later. He then adjusted the blankets around her, covering her oddly vulnerable looking feet. Something tight constricted in his chest as he watched her, feeding on his anxieties. Trying to push it down he tucked the blankets about her a little more securely, fussing. 

“Sleep well, Snips,” he murmured, passing a hand over her shoulder where she was snuggled up tight and safe before slipping out of her room and quietly closing the door. He leaned his back against it briefly and passed a hand over his face. He was barely holding himself together.

“Is she settled in?” Obi-Wan asked, still puttering around in the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets.

“Dead to the world,” Anakin said as he meandered over to the couch, collapsing on it. He buried his face into one of the worn throw pillows and reaching up to the back to grab the knitted Noobian blanket Padmé had gifted him. He let the familiar sounds of Obi-Wan filling the kettle, igniting the burner and setting out cups surround him. “How did you manage to do this?” 

“Manage what, dear one?”

Lazily Anakin raised an arm and waved it about. “You know… taking care of someone who relies on you when you’re so tired you could cry. When you want to shut everyone out and just have a moment to yourself but you can’t.” 

“Do you want me to go?” Obi-Wan teased with all the assurance of someone who knew the answer to their question, sounding far closer than he had been a moment before. Obi-Wan must have put on the fur-lined slippers Anakin kept by the door for him, the soft fabric soles muffling his steps. Seconds later a warm hand carded through Anakin’s curls and he turned his head enough to peek up at the beloved face. He reached up and settled his hand on Obi-Wan’s. 

“No. I’d like it if you would stay, even if I’m terrible company right now.”

“You’re never _terrible_ company, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, easing his hand away and moving towards his legs. He felt Obi-Wan tug at his boots and stifled a snort as the leather pulled away. 

“I just did that for Ahsoka. She tried to get into bed with her boots still on.”

“She takes after you more and more every day,” Obi-Wan remarked, sliding Anakin’s own moccasins on. He wiggled his toes happily in the fluffy lining and murmured his thanks. The tenderness of Obi-Wan’s demeanour reaffirmed Anakin’s adoration for the man; he wanted to bask in the glow of his compassion and generosity forever. Cracking open an eye he peeked up to watch Obi-Wan adjust the blanket around him, making sure he was covered. 

“And to answer your question,” Obi-wan continued, bending down to kiss Anakin’s forehead. “Love. Love was how I managed it. Love for you, love for my family… and patience for myself. A lot of patience.” 

Anakin snorted derisively. “I don’t really have much of that. Patience I mean.” 

“I know you don’t,” Obi-wan admonished, tweaking Anakin’s ear as he passed by again, venturing into the kitchen once more. 

The smell of the flowering dawn-jasmine sitting in the planters on his window sill filled his lungs with their sweet scent. He nuzzled his way back into the pillow and let the sounds of Obi-Wan puttering about lull him not necessarily into sleep but into a dozing state where his worries were no longer at the forefront of his mind. Anakin simply allowed himself to get swallowed up in the comfort of the moment, the easy familiarity of simply letting Obi-Wan take care of him. As he grew up he allowed it less and less, assuming vulnerability did not befit a senior padawan or knight. Becoming lovers changed that. He found he almost craved Obi-Wan’s gentle care and still found himself surprised he was allowed to give in to those desires. 

Anakin wasn’t sure how long he lay there. Safe within the Temple time seemed nebulous. The sound of ceramic being set on the low table in front of him paired with the citrus and herb scent of tea roused him from the liminal state. Blinking blearily he pushed himself up, pulling his legs up and under him to make room for Obi-Wan, who obligingly sat down next to him, his own cup of tea in his hand. Pulling the blanket from his shoulders Anakin spread it out over both of their laps before snuggling into the Jedi Master’s side. Reaching out Anakin took his own cup in hand, letting the heat of it warm his fingers and palms. He took a delicate sniff, inhaling the vapour. 

“Chamomile?” He asked wryly with a smile to match.

“You hardly need the caffeine,” Obi-Wan explained, curling an arm over Anakin’s shoulders and using his free hand to start petting his hair. 

“Probably not,” Anakin agreed, taking a sip of the half-sweet tea. It wasn’t something he naturally gravitated towards but the nostalgia of it was soothing. “I took one too many stims on the campaign anyways.”

“Yes, I read Medic Kix’s report,” Obi-Wan sighed, an unimpressed tone clinging to his words. 

“N’unh-unh,” Anakin interjected, clumsily jabbing a finger at Obi-Wan. “You don’t get to judge me for that.” 

“Just because I fall into bad habits doesn’t mean I like to see them emulated by the people I love,” Obi-Wan said, primly taking a sip of his own tea. 

“Yeah well, all’s fair in love and war.” 

“Don’t quote platitudes at me, Anakin.” 

“ _Don’t quote platitudes at me, Anakin_ ,” he mocked obnoxiously.

Obi-Wan yanked on a curl gently. “Brat.” 

Anakin didn’t reply except to stick out his tongue, letting the argument die. It was a silly thing to get wrapped up in and he would much rather simply _be_ with Obi-Wan in this moment. The feeling was apparently mutual as Obi-Wan didn’t chase the thread either, simply nestling closer and taking another sip of his tea. Anakin cradled the precious moment in his chest, trying to imprint it upon his soul. Such moments of stillness were rare these days, so deep into a war with no end in sight. Once again Anakin marvelled at how easy it was to get lost in Obi-Wan’s presence, letting his fingertips soothe away the tension as they carded through his hair.

“Are we going to talk about what happened in the hanger?” Obi-Wan asked. 

“Do we have to?” Anakin asked, mumbling into his teacup as though he could crawl into it and hide. 

“I would like to, yes.” 

“It was nothing, Obi-Wan,” he tried vainly to deflect, as his anxiety began to rear its familiar ugly head. His hands trembled.

Though he wasn’t looking at him, Anakin could practically hear Obi-Wan’s arched eyebrow. “Anakin, you were _terrified_. What happened?” 

“Nothing happened!” He exclaimed and his finely tuned control slipped, the cup in his hands cracking with a delicate sound. Hot tea spilled over his fingers and onto the blanket, soaking through. Immediately all his irritation and anger dissipated and he clumsily tried to gather the broken shards with trembling fingers. “ _Xhax_ 3.”

Obi-Wan rose, setting his own cup down, and helped to pick up the pieces, carefully taking the shards from Anakin and placing them on the table. He then took Anakin’s flesh hand in his own, gently checking the skin for burns before bringing the knuckles to his hand for a kiss. The press of his lips was warm and forgiving and it made Anakin’s eyes burn. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan breathed, sounding both tired and concerned, but there was an undercurrent of fondness too. He peered up at Anakin, through his lashes, his face eternally kind. The fear bubbled like inky tar, and Anakin could imagine it seeping out of his pores. Slowly a hot tear slipped down his cheek and Obi-Wan’s sabre-calloused fingers reached up to brush it away. “ _Ankai’a_ 4, tell me what’s wrong.” 

“I… I was scared. Scared of losing you and Ahsoka. I was holding you both in my arms and I realized you both meant _so much to me_ , you’re my everything. My whole world. And,” Anakin took a breath, choking back a sob and closing his eyes tight. “I could lose you both so easily. You could lose me too. And I didn’t… I didn’t want to give in to it but the darkness… it just swallowed me up.” 

Shame began to fall like rain about him, drenching him, bleeding from his Force signature. 

Warm hands cradled his face and pulled Anakin forward until Obi-Wan’s forehead rested against his. “Thank you for telling me.”

Anakin bit his lip hard, almost until it bled, fingers reaching to curl into Obi-Wan’s robes. His throat hurt with the need to cry, to let his pain heave out of him. As if sensing this, Obi-Wan sat next to him once more and pulled him close, his own presence in the Force wrapping around Anakin, secure and accepting. “Let it out, Anakin, don’t let it fester.” 

The levee broke.

Anakin crawled into Obi-Wan’s lap, trying to hide himself from the world as each broken sob tore itself from him. His face burned, tears dripping into his mouth and on Obi-Wan’s tabards. With infinite gentleness Obi-Wan pulled him closer still, soothing a hand up and down his back, murmuring into his hair as Anakin cried the fear out of his heart. 

“You will be okay, Anakin,” Obi-Wan encouraged, kissing the top of his head. “You are safe here. You are home.” 

Anakin did not know how long he remained there, cradled in Obi-Wan’s arms. Long enough for the storm of grief and pain to die down within him, sinking back beneath the black water. What was left was stripped bare and raw. He thought he knew exhaustion before but this was something else. The hurt may have subsided but the weight of his worries felt all the more present, like chains upon his limbs. 

“ _Tamah uu nev valrael keel, im nev xariel_ 5, I promise,” Obi-Wan whispered into Anakin’s hair. “Now… let’s get you cleaned up.” 

Anakin let Obi-Wan pull them both to their feet and guide him to the fresher. There he took a cloth and wet it with hot water before he proceeded to clean Anakin’s face of tears and other evidence of his breakdown. With infinite tenderness Obi-Wan passed over his closed lids gently, letting the heat sink into and soothe his sore, red-rimmed eyes. Anakin felt like a planet in orbit around a gentle star, soaking up every golden ray of love.

“Go get changed and I’ll make you another cup of tea,” Obi-Wan said, folding the cloth when he was finished and hanging it up. “Then we’ll talk.”

Anakin swallowed, anxiety churning in his stomach, but he nodded. Obi-Wan cupped his cheek, kissing him encouragingly and Anakin leaned into it. The kiss he gave in turn was not hungry or possessive, he simply basked in the reassurance of the touch. When Obi-Wan pulled away he gently nudged Anakin in the direction of his room. 

Following his master’s instructions, almost on auto-pilot, Anakin went through the process of stripping away the layers that made him a Jedi Knight once he entered his room. His armour he carefully stowed away in a crate to be cleaned later and his tabards, pants and tunics were tossed into the hamper in his closet. He debated tuning his arm once he removed the protective glove but for once the idea of tinkering with the delicate mechanics brought him no joy. He was too tired and unbalanced, he would most likely do more harm than good in this state. Moving over to the dresser he replaced his clothing with an incredibly warm long-sleeved tunic and an equally warm, soft and loose pair of pants. 

Freshly changed he went about closing the blinds to block out the growing day, not even taking a moment to admire the view of the city beyond and the gardens below. He briefly checked the soil in the pots of the plants he kept, noting which ones needed to be watered soon and made a mental note to take care of them tomorrow. The droid in charge of watering them while he was gone was doing a good job but he had a feeling the task of caring for them would help him find a semblance of balance. 

A gentle knock on the door drew him from his ruminations and he turned to see Obi-Wan leaning in the doorway with the promised cup of tea in one hand and a datapad in the other. In the dim, his eyes appeared more grey, almost sombre. But his smile was almost cheeky. 

“You look comfy,” he appraised. Anakin shrugged a shoulder and moved over to his bed, pulling back the heavy duvet and multiple quilts. 

“If we’re going to talk I want to at least be cozy,” Anakin said, crawling onto the mattress and wedging himself into the corner next to the wall the bed was pushed against, making room for Obi-Wan. “For emotional support.” 

“Well at least you still have your sense of humour,” Obi-Wan quipped, setting the pad on the nightstand and handing Anakin the tea. “I expect you to finish this one.” 

“Sorry,” Anakin mumbled as the mattress dipped and Obi-Wan climbed in next to him, still dressed in his pants and tunics, though the sash and tabards were removed. Obi-Wan fluffed the pillows up to lean against and then pulled the heavy blankets over their laps. It was almost funny to watch him fuss almost like a nesting convor. 

“It’s hardly your fault, dear. You’re under incredible stress, and clearly struggling with your own doubts and fears,” Obi-Wan said, reaching over to take Anakin’s mechanical hand in his own. It was still humbling, how little his arm bothered him. If he had any more tears in him Anakin would have probably started crying again. He didn’t deserve such unconditional faith. 

“Now, can you tell me where you think these fears are coming from?” Obi-Wan asked, with all the patience of a man who had first been his teacher long before they mutually redefined their relationship. 

Anakin took a sip of his tea and sighed. Might as well rip off the bacta patch. “Attachment,” he grumbled into his cup, shame and resentment rumbling in his chest. 

“Attachment,” Obi-Wan echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Can you elaborate?” 

“You know, fear of losing the people you love.” 

Obi-Wan nodded and stroked his beard. “That’s what you think attachment is?” 

Anakin narrowed his eyes at Obi-Wan. “Isn’t it?” 

“Fear is only the seed that if fed will grow into attachment,” Obi-Wan corrected, threading his fingers with Anakin’s metal ones, letting assurance trickle down their bond. “Allow me to let you in on a little secret, Anakin. Fear lives at the heart of us all, of every Jedi. Fear is an element of sentience. Fear strives us to survive, to appreciate life for all it’s joys. Without fear we would lose all that makes us who we are. Fear is natural, and it can even be beneficial. It teaches us. It is only when we _feed_ our fear that it starts to grow into something that strangles us. When we allow it to transform into toxic emotions such as hate or greed. 

“Attachment is one such manifestation of fear grown wild. We make dangerous choices because of attachment. We stifle our loved ones to keep them close, we put others at risk to keep them with us. We compromise our morals and our duties for the sake of attachment. We become possessive, mistrustful. We try to control the people we care for. That is what attachment is, Anakin. The fears you have do not stem from attachment but if left unchecked they certainly will become that particular poison.”

Anakin drew his knees up, resting his half-consumed tea on top and stared into the sunny amber liquid. He bit his lip. 

“Then what do I need to do? I don’t… I don’t want to feel like this all the time,” he said plaintively. Obi-Wan’s thumb ran over the delicate exposed circuitry in his hand in a soothing rhythm.

“Well, for one, you need to open your eyes to the ways your fear is blinding you,” Obi-Wan encouraged. “As flattering as it is that you think this way, Ahsoka and I are hardly your whole world. You have R2, who thinks you hung the moon and I am fairly certain is your best friend. And if he is not then Senator Amidala _certainly_ is. 

“Your family is not as narrow as you think,” He continued, smiling wryly. “Or have you forgotten that you are just as much a child of the Temple as the rest of us? You may have come later than most but there is not a single Jedi in this Temple who does not love you with their whole heart, just as you love them with yours. 

“You’ve forged more bonds beyond the order as well. The 501st would follow you into the Nine Corellian Hells if you just asked, and the 212th has more or less adopted you as one of their own.”

Despite himself Anakin felt a kernel of heat bloom in his chest, like a small ember. He cradled it close, letting it warm him. Distantly he could feel the inky blackness of the dark within him recede.

“And let us not forget the family you left behind to come to us,” Obi-Wan added. “C3-PO, as obnoxious as the droid may be, is still a connection to that love you had for your mother. I know you send the Larses letters as well. You are allowed to have that connection Anakin.” 

Anakin ducked his head, suddenly feeling foolish. “I… I know. I know all of that, I think. It’s just… you’re so important to me. I don’t know what I’d do if… if…”

“I know how you feel, _Ankai’a_ ,” Obi-Wan insisted, squeezing his hand. “I feel it too. Sometimes I think it might take over me as well. It’s hard not to, given the burdens we carry in this war. But you need to know that there are those who love you outside of our little circle, and they _will_ be there to catch you if the worst should happen.”

Anakin shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut tight. “I don’t want to think about it, Obi-Wan.” 

Obi-Wan huffed a sigh and leaned forward, kissing his temple. He lingered, letting his presence settle over Anakin like a warm blanket. “I think we’re well past ignoring it.”

“Don’t tell me to fucking meditate on it,” he growled. 

“No, I doubt meditating would help right now,” Obi-Wan said lightly, pursing his lips as he pulled away. “But talking is the first step. Which we are doing right now. Are you saying it’s not helping?” 

Anakin opened his mouth to retort, wanting to defensively lash out, but snapped it closed after a second. He did feel a little better. The chains of his worries were still present but there were fewer, and the ones he had felt looser, less constraining. The black sea of his fear was calm for now, and more distant. And there was the ember, glowing at his core, a reminder. 

“Maybe,” he mumbled, sipping his tea again. Obi-Wan had the indecency to look a little smug at his admission and Anakin glared half-heartedly at him. “Okay _fine_ , it’s helped.” 

“See? I was right.” 

“Ugh, shut up,” Anakin groaned, pulling his hand from Obi-Wan’s grip and hiding in his cup as he finished off the rest of the tea. He could feel more than hear Obi-Wan’s chuckling. “You’re insufferable, _Jaieh_!” 

“And you are easy to rile up, even when you’re beyond exhausted,” Obi-Wan countered. He reached up with his now free hand and brushed Anakin’s hair from his forehead. “Now, I think it’s time you at least tried to sleep.” 

“You’ll,” Anakin hesitated. “You’ll stay?” 

Obi-Wan took the teacup from Anakin’s hand and set it on the bedside table, coming back with the datapad which he jauntily waved. “I brought my work with me for exactly this purpose. I commed Master Windu while you were getting changed and told him I didn’t want to be disturbed unless absolutely necessary. He was accommodating when I explained the situation.” 

Anakin flushed, humbled that the Master of the Order was willing to be lenient, especially for him. While Anakin rarely doubted Master Windu’s care and love, he knew that he was oftentimes more of a thorn in Windu’s side, like a particularly troublesome younger sibling. 

“So… you’re staying?” Anakin asked, looking for reassurance as he wiggled himself down and under the covers, resting his head on Obi-Wan’s slightly reclined stomach. 

“For the rest of the day, and the night too,” Obi-Wan said. 

Anakin nuzzled his face into Obi-Wan’s stomach with a content sound and gestured at the switch near the door to dim the lights. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan admonished lightly out of habit. He then turned on the pad, the blue light washing over his face and shining in his eyes.

“It’s not a misuse of the Force if it means I don’t have to get out of bed,” Anakin mumbled, closing his heavy eyes and pulling the quilts and blankets up over half his face, letting the growing warmth of the space lull him closer to sleep. 

“An interesting point of view,” Obi-Wan chuckled, settling his hand atop Anakin’s head and letting the tips of his fingers massage gently at his scalp. Anakin focused on the rhythmic circles, and followed their spiralling motion down into the blissful depths of sleep. 

His worries did not follow him.

* * *

1\. Master↩

2\. Lit. “Outside it is cold, but we are all warm together here”. Means “welcome home” or “I am glad you are home safely.”↩

3\. Softly, but with meaning: fuck↩

4\. Darling, Soulmate↩

4\. A statement of comfort. “You are in the dark, but not the Darkness”, "Darkness" meaning "the Darkside of the Force".↩


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have noticed, this is no longer a two-parter. 
> 
> Mostly tooth aching domestic fluff and banter this time but there's a little spice, here and there.

Anakin opened his eyes to night. 

His room was filled with the bioluminescent glow of the small Felucian mushroom colony he kept in a terrarium, the room bathed in dim aquamarine light. He debated trying to fall back asleep but the small ache in his stomach that had woken him reminded Anakin he had not eaten anything in quite some time. Sighing he sat up, shivering slightly as the cooler air of the room brushed his skin and sank through his clothing. It made him want to burrow back under the covers and snuggle into his master. 

Obi-Wan, who appeared to have fallen asleep reclined against the headboard, a dead data pad laying listlessly on his lap above the comforter, let out a soft grunt as the cool air leaked beneath the covers. Anakin chuckled, knowing the man had probably refused to move from being at Anakin’s side and a wave of fondness washed over him. He almost ignored his hunger and gave in to the siren song of warmth and closeness but ultimately he abstained. Carefully disengaging himself from the heavy press of the quilts Anakin nimbly climbed over Obi-Wan and tucked the blankets around him once more. 

Anakin cast a glance at the chronometer and 5:14 lazily glowed back at him in blue. 

“ _Xhax_1,” he muttered, running a hand down his face. He had lost an entire day to sleep. 

Stepping into his moccasins Anakin slipped quietly out the door and into the communal space of his quarters. The living room greeted him with the amber and violet glimmer of Coruscant before dawn. He stared out the windows for a moment, contemplating the Capital's variation of peacefulness. In its strange way, there was a comfort in knowing that the great city continued about its daily life. There were times Anakin almost felt resentment toward the citizens of Coruscant, for the ease at which they went about their daily lives, unaffected by the war. Yet he had been down in the lower levels many times and listened to Padmé’s rants often enough to know that the blasé peace he could see from atop the Temple was simply an illusion only the rich could afford.

Rubbing his eyes he turned toward the kitchen. Caf first, then breakfast. 

After turning on the light Anakin filled the kettle and set it on the burner. While waiting for the water to boil Anakin rummaged about in his pantry and freezer for things to throw together. It had been a long time since he had cooked anything in his own home and he was genuinely curious about what he had purchased last. Eventually, scrounging together an idea, he tossed six fillets of Noobian snapper in the sink to defrost under running water while measuring out enough ghoba rice for breakfast and threw it in the cooker with some water. 

Before the kettle whistle could go off and wake up Ahsoka or Obi-Wan he removed it from the heat and let it sit while he added Caf grains to the cafetière. Stifling a yawn Anakin slowly poured the water in and tried to get the stimulant to brew faster with sheer willpower. For all that he nearly slept twenty-or-so hours, he still felt tired behind the eyes. He eventually gave up on waiting and poured himself a cup, moaning at the first sip as it heated him through. There was no point in pretending he was some sort of connoisseur—he’d drink day-old caf at this point if it would caffeinate him. 

Caf at hand he resumed breakfast preparations. Dried kelp, fermented salthia bean paste, diced soft soypro and some salt all went into a pot to boil as he went about descaling the thawed snapper fillets. Once Anakin had the fish in the pan he pulled sprigs of leaves off the herbs growing in the window sill planter above the sink and added them to the skillet. The light outside had intensified as dawn approached, pinks and reds creeping into the sky before the sun had even risen above the distant storm clouds. 

Brightening somewhat at the prospect of rain Anakin busied himself with the familiar task of cooking. By the end, as the blazing red eye of the sun breached the cloudbank, he had previously frozen vegetables steaming away, rice waiting to be plated, the light soup finished and most of the fish fried. 

Just as he contemplated waking up Ahsoka for breakfast he heard her bedroom door open with a quiet hiss of air and out stumbled his charge, still wearing yesterday’s clothing and the imprint of her pillow on her face. Anakin raised an eyebrow at her as she stumbled into the kitchen table and Ahsoka at least had the decency to appear sheepish. 

“In my defence... I overslept,” she said, making her way over to the kettle. “Is it still hot?” 

Anakin shrugged a shoulder. “Should be hot enough for green tea.” 

Ahsoka made a face and put it back on the remaining free burner. “I need something stronger than that.” 

“Suit yourself,” Anakin said, finishing off his caf and pouring himself another cup. “Can you set the table while you wait for that to boil?” 

“Sure,” Ahsoka replied, stifling another yawn behind her hand. “Please tell me you at least got some sleep and you haven’t been awake this whole time.” 

Anakin snorted. “I think I slept for twenty hours or so.” 

“Pull the other one, _Jaieh_ 2. It jingles,” Ahsoka replied, fishing in the pantry and fridge for some condiments and checking the expiry dates with a critical eye. She tossed at least one bottle into the garbage with a horrified look on her face.

“I’m serious,” Anakin insisted, fetching small hand-sized ceramic bowls as his padawan set her choices on the table, along with place settings and cutlery.

Ahsoka’s eyes widened slightly in genuine surprise before she punched Anakin in the arm, a good-natured smile stretching her cheeks. “Good. It’s about time you kicked your insomnia in the ass and told it who’s boss.” 

Anakin rolled his eyes and elbowed her back. “Insomnia doesn’t work that way, Snips.” 

“Yeah, it does. You just need to mind-trick yourself into sleeping,” Ahsoka insisted, pointing her fingers at the side of her head like a blaster. “Just stare into the mirror, wave your hand with confidence, say ‘you will fall asleep’ with absolute conviction and then: bang! You fall to the floor dead to the world.” 

“What kind of fresh-out-of-the-crѐche-initiate banthashit is that? Are you implying I have a weak mind?” Anakin asked, spooning rice into the bowls and handing them to her one at a time to set on the table.

“Anyone would after four days of no sleep,” Ahsoka said as she accepted the bowls. She gave the last one a sniff. “Mmm, carbs.” 

“You’re going to need them,” Anakin said, turning off the burner as the kettle went off again. “Here, the water is boiled again. Make sure you make Obi-Wan a cup of tea too.” 

“Master Kenobi’s coming over for breakfast?” Ahsoka asked, opening the cupboard and fetching her tea blend and Obi-Wan’s. 

“Something like that,” Anakin chuckled, ladling soup into the bowls and handing them to Ahsoka to put on the table. She took one look at Anakin and rolled her eyes. 

“He’s asleep in your room isn’t he?” 

“Yup.” 

“You two really are attached at the hip,” Ahsoka said, taking a sniff this time of the soup. She pulled a face.

“Yay. Fermented bean soup. And is that… Is that seaweed?” She asked, her voice lacking in enthusiasm.

“It’s good for you.” 

“I’m a carnivore.” 

“You’re not an _obligate_ carnivore though. I asked your crѐche master about that little fib,” Anakin countered, sticking out his tongue. “Besides, I bet it tastes better than a ration bar.” 

“You have me there,” she said with a sigh. “Please tell me you have meat though.” 

“Three fillets of fish with your name on them, Snips.” 

Ahsoka grinned, all sharp teeth. “Have I told you that you’re my favourite lately, Jaieh?” 

“Hmmm, not _lately_ ,” Anakin said teasingly, serving the fish onto three separate plates. Three for Ahsoka, two for Obi-Wan and one for him. He then portioned out the vegetables, with most going to himself and none for Ahsoka. He carried the plates over to the table and set them down while Ahsoka brought over the cups of tea. 

“Ugh, I’m famished and it smells so good,” Ahsoka whined. “Do we have to wait for Obi-Wan?”

Anakin laughed. “Just give me a moment,” he said as he made his way over to his room. He lightly rapped on the door before opening and sticking his head in. In the dim glow, he could make out Obi-Wan, still reclined against the pillows and dead to the world. Smirking he knocked on the wall by the door jam, louder this time.

“You decent, _Jaieh_?” He asked, laughing again when Obi-Wan jerked awake at the sound of his voice and the datapad slid off his lap and onto the floor in the clatter. Anakin snorted in amusement at the disgruntled expression on his master’s face. 

“Good job,” he quipped.

Obi-Wan groaned and passed a hand over his face. “Anakin.” 

“Morning, sunshine! Breakfast is ready,” he teased, stepping further into the room and bending down to grab the datapad. As he stood Obi-Wan’s hand reached out and grabbed him by the sleeve, tugging him closer and making him stumble into the bed. 

“ _Jaieh_ , what are you—”

Obi-Wan’s other hand curled in his hair and pulled him down into a kiss. It was nothing like the one they shared the day before, full of care and softness. This one was far more possessive, simmering over the banked flame of Obi-Wan’s desire which flared hot over their bond. Curling his hand into Obi-Wan’s tunic Anakin let a small mewl escape his throat as he let his lips part for Obi-Wan’s questing tongue. Even the stale taste didn’t stop the frisson of want that trickled down Anakin’s spine. As teeth dragged over his lower lip Anakin reluctantly pulled away with a little whine, breath utterly stolen. 

“Good morning, darling,” Obi-Wan murmured hoarsely, his voice rough with sleep and want. Anakin swallowed as he met Obi-Wan’s storm coloured eyes. 

“As fun as this is,” Anakin said, clearing his throat as he gently but insistently detangled himself from Obi-Wan. “Ahsoka is in the next room and I’m pretty sure she’s hungry enough to eat everything. Possibly even the vegetables.” 

“You don’t feed her enough, clearly,” Obi-Wan intoned with a droll grin. 

“And she’s growing like a weed,” Anakin agreed. “Come on, food is getting cold, old man.” 

Pushing away the blankets Obi-Wan swung his legs over the side of the bed and slid his feet into the waiting slippers. “How long have you been awake?” 

“Since before dawn,” Anakin said. “I woke up roughly a quarter after five.” 

“I’m impressed,” Obi-Wan said, quirking an eyebrow. “The last time you slept that much was—”

Obi-Wan abruptly cut himself off, swallowing the rest of his sentence as though it were a lemon and raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. Anakin smiled wryly. 

“After I lost my arm.” Anakin finished for him. 

“I wasn’t thinking,” Obi-Wan said. “Sorry.” 

“It’s fine, _Jaieh_. It’s not something we need to tiptoe around. In fact, it’s right out in the open,” Anakin said, rolling his eyes. He pushed up his right sleeve and waved his mechanical arm in the air. Smirking at Obi-Wan’s chagrined expression he turned on his heel and walked out of the room. “Hey Snips, guess what Master Obi-Wan did?” 

“What,” Ahsoka asked, turning in her chair, having already taken her seat. 

“He had the _audacity_ to bring up my amputated arm,” Anakin said, smirk broadening into a shit-eating grin. 

Ahsoka gasped and put a hand over her chest, eyes wide with fake horror. “Master Kenobi, how _could_ you?” 

Walking past Anakin Obi-Wan jabbed him quickly in the side with his hand, right below the ribs, making Anakin yelp. “Ow!” 

“You’ve made your point, Anakin,” He said, taking his customary spot. “ _Pecha_ ,3 Ahsoka. You look more awake than you were when I last saw you.” 

“Thanks,” The blue of Ahsoka’s lekku deepened with tones of indigo slightly but she smiled broadly. “I don’t think it’s possible to look more tired than I did.”

“You say that now, but wait until you get older,” Obi-Wan said, picking up his cup of tea and taking a sip, humming contentedly. 

“He has a lot of experience with being old and tired,” Anakin informed Ahsoka with a conspiratorial smile as he sat down which sent the teenager into a fit of giggles. He threw the grin towards Obi-Wan who was frowning at him playfully from over the rim of his teacup.

“Rather than fall for your bait, Anakin—”

“You’re getting rusty with the comebacks, _Jaieh_.”

“—I’m going to enjoy this lovely meal you prepared for us and verbally demolish you later.” 

“Coward,” Anakin teased, lifting his soup and taking a sip from it as everyone else began to dig in with murmured appreciation for the hearty breakfast. The broth was briny, savoury and warm, heating up his core and soothing the hungry ache in his stomach. 

For a while conversation stagnated as the three Jedi ate their fill. It spoke to both the heartiness of the meal and the comfort they found in one another’s presence, that conversation was not always necessary to feel comfortable around one another. Anakin stifled a laugh when Ahsoka finished her food and went up for a second helping of rice and the soup she previously considered dubious. 

“So,” she said as she took her seat again, spooning some of her rice into her soup. “What’s on the agenda for today?” 

“That’s up to you, Snips,” Anakin said, popping a vegetable into his mouth. He really had missed green food. “If you want to take another day to relax you can, seeing as you spent basically all of yesterday unconscious.” 

Ahsoka considered his words before shaking her head. “I don’t think I could really handle doing nothing. My body already aches from spending a whole day in bed. Besides, I want to keep busy. Do you think we could spar?” 

“I don’t have a problem with that, though we should probably make time to work on your Shii-Cho,” Anakin said. “Get back to basics.”

Ahsoka groaned. “Basics?”

“The basics can always be improved upon,” Obi-Wan said. “We should always take time to revisit Shii-Cho as it is the foundation of all the succeeding forms.” 

“Would you like to join us for remedial basics?” Anakin asked, letting his foot bump against Obi-Wan’s beneath the table, grinning at him. 

Obi-Wan polished off his tea before setting the cup down on the table and sending both Ahsoka and Anakin an apologetic smile. “I would love nothing more. However, the council will be in session for most of the day. Aside from a few scheduled recesses, I’m afraid I wouldn’t have the time.” 

Anakin felt himself deflate slightly. In truth, he had been looking forward to spending more time with Obi-Wan this shore-leave. Suddenly he felt a rush of guilt well up inside his chest. Obi-Wan had no doubt felt the same yesterday, perhaps even arranged time around his busy schedule to spend it with him, and Anakin had completely slept through it all. He squandered a perfect opportunity by not taking better care of himself and coming back exhausted. Biting his lip Anakin looked away briefly before schooling his face into a genial smile. 

“Oh,” he said, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice. “Well, maybe another time then.” 

Anakin was almost startled when he felt Obi-Wan gently stroke the bond that connected them at the very core. The touch was both reassuring and playful, like a caress of fingers down his back. Glancing over, Obi-Wan’s smile seemed almost mischievous, a twinkle glimmering wickedly in his eyes. His former master took Anakin’s mechanical hand and raised it to his lips, kissing the golden knuckles. The press of his lips registered as warmth and a vague tingling sensation. 

“I’ll be free this evening, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said softly, his voice full of promise. Anakin felt a frisson of desire shiver down his spine and settle low in his belly. 

“Ew,” Ahsoka muttered, with all the disgust of a teenage girl witnessing her guardians’ public displays of affection. She stood and grabbed her empty plates, bringing them over to the sink. “I’m gonna go get a shower before you two start canoodling.” 

“Hey,” Anakin said, turning around in his seat to level a glare at her. “Don’t think this means you’re weaselling out of the dishes.” 

“I just watched Obi-Wan put The Kenobi Moves on you, Skyguy. I need to go wash my eyes out otherwise I’ll be scarred for life. Consider it payment,” Ahsoka said, and with a wink darted out of the kitchen as quickly as she could before Anakin could grab at her. 

“Brat,” Anakin muttered through half a laugh, reaching for his unfinished caf. 

“I wonder where she gets it from?” Obi-Wan teased as he stood from the table as well, gathering up his bowls and plate. 

“ _You_ ,” Anakin shot back. 

“Shall we agree to disagree then, my dear?” 

“Once again, you’re copping out, _Jaieh_.” 

“Hm,” Obi-Wan hummed, setting the dishes in the sink and turning on the water. He poured some of the citrus-scented dish soap into the basin, squeezing the bottle after and letting a few stray bubbles float into the air. “Maybe I keep copping out, as it were, because I want to destroy your ass later tonight.” 

Anakin did not choke on his drink but it was a close thing. With wide eyes he stared at the half-sly, half-coy look Obi-Wan was sending him over his shoulder. 

“Pardon me?” Anakin asked, voice slightly high and squeaky. 

Obi-Wan laughed, somewhat ruefully. “I admit that segue wasn’t very smooth in retrospect.” 

“I followed it fine, just warn a guy!”

“I’ll warn you of any sharp turns in conversation if you warn me of them when you’re driving.”

Anakin pretended to think about it. “No deal.” 

“Then I suppose I’ll have to keep blindsiding you,” Obi-Wan replied, affecting a put upon tone. He came back over to the table and took the rest of the dirty dishes, putting a hand on Anakin’s shoulder to keep him sitting when he tried to rise as well. “No, no, my dear. You made breakfast, I’ll clean up.” 

Anakin chuckled and leaned back in his chair, rocking it onto its back legs slightly. “What a gentleman! He even does the dishes.” 

“I have it on good authority that I _am_ a catch,” Obi-Wan agreed cheerily, devolving into a laugh which Anakin helplessly matched. Already the darkness of the morning before felt far away. This is what Anakin had missed so dearly while he had been gone.

Letting his chair fall back into place Anakin simply regarded Obi-Wan for a moment as the Jedi Master set about cleaning the dishes. He let his eyes trace the lines of his broad shoulders and the strength of his back. Every so often the shirt would tug and bunch with the flex of Obi-Wan’s biceps. Biting his lip, Anakin imagined dragging his teeth along the bulge of muscle, tasting the salt of Obi-Wan’s perspiration after a long spar. Tearing his eyes away he brought the mug back to his lips, taking a slow sip. 

“So,” Anakin said, drawing out the vowel. “About you, me, my ass and this evening?” 

Obi-Wan chuckled, not looking up from his task. “Don’t be coy, dear heart. Good boys ask for what they want.” 

Anakin rolled his eyes and stood, drowning the rest of his Caf quickly, letting the lingering heat of it slide down his throat. Slipping his arms around Obi-Wan, Anakin placed his empty mug in the sudsy water as he brushed his lips over his master’s ear in a parody of a kiss, moulding his body to Obi-Wan’s back. “I want you to fuck me tonight.”

“Oh? Is that all?” 

“Why, do you have plans, _Jaieh?_ I thought you said you were free,” Anakin said, nipping at Obi-Wan’s earlobe.

“Can I not have plans _and_ be free?” Obi-Wan asked playfully, leaning back into Anakin’s embrace. “There are a few things from your list I’d like to try.”

Anakin couldn’t suppress the flush that burned across his cheeks and he buried his head in Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Two months into their sexual relationship they both wrote separate lists of things they’d be interested in introducing to the bedroom. They were written in the knowledge that there would be no judgement on the other’s part. Anakin remembered the heady mix of mortification and glee when he had privately sent his list to Obi-Wan. He recalled, even more vividly, the imaginary scenarios he conjured alone in his bunk after reading the list Obi-Wan sent in return. 

“Which ones?” He asked, lifting his head and feeling delighted goosebumps rise and skitter across his skin. 

“Would you mind it terribly, my love, if it were a surprise?” Obi-Wan asked, drying off his hands with the dishtowel and carding his fingers through Anakin’s curls. A sound reminiscent of a purr slipped from Anakin’s throat and he leaned his head into the scratch of Obi-Wan’s nails like a pleased tooka.

“Can you at least tell me a _little_ about your plan?” Anakin asked, tightening his arms a little around Obi-Wan’s abdomen. 

“Of course, darling,” Obi-Wan assured him, turning around in Anakin’s arms and settling his hands on Anakin’s hips. “I want you to go about your day as normal. Train with Ahsoka, find some time for yourself, relax, whatever you want to do. Make sure you eat a good supper, have a nice shower because at seven o’clock I want you to come to my apartment. I won’t be there yet but it will give you some time to prepare.” 

Anakin shivered with anticipation. “Prepare for what?” 

Obi-Wan chuckled, the sound as deep and dark as his eyes in that moment. He reached up and gripped Anakin’s jaw, leaning in close enough to kiss. 

“I want you to set the thermostat to your liking, so you’ll be comfortable when you take off all your clothes. At the foot of the bed, on the ottoman, I’ll have some things set out for you. You can use all of them or none of them, it’s your choice. I won’t be mad or disappointed. However, when I return home at seven-thirty, I expect to find you waiting for me kneeling _perfectly_ on my bed, facing the windows, hands on your knees. Can you do that for me, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked softly, breath brushing along his lips. 

“Yes, _Jaieh_ ,” Anakin said, crisp and clear.

Obi-Wan’s answering grin was positively wicked. 

“ _Good boy._ ” 

* * *

1\. Fuck, but said softly↩  
2\. Master↩  
3\. Standard greeting which, if said to someone you would usually greet more formally, it signals that you are waving any status between you and addressing each other as friends↩

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does it count as Obi-Wan's Master kink if it's in Dai Bendu?
> 
> _Of course it does, what do you take me for?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a bid to distract himself from the anticipation of the night to come, Anakin takes an opportunity to spar with Ahsoka. That is, until Mace Windu interrupts. 
> 
> An important conversation is had, and Anakin must consider the nature of his attachments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long break between updates, I'm alive, I promise! I've been waiting to write this exchange between Anakin and Mace for a while. The boys still haven't fucked but I promise the next chapter will have plenty of smut to finally ease both our and Anakin's anticipatory suffering.

In retrospect, Anakin reflected, Shii-Cho was not the best tool for distracting himself. 

In the right conditions, going through the motions of Shii-Cho was akin to meditation for Anakin. The familiarity and relative simplicity made it easy to sink into the pool of his mind as he allowed his body to simply flow through katas and focuses like a winding river that was so engrained it was a part of him, as it was a part of every Jedi. To practice the first form was to connect with the very history of their Order; to understand the foundation of all the techniques that came after. Shii-Cho was the roots that fed the disparate branches, from Makashi to Vaapad. It allowed each Jedi to flourish and unfurl in the canopy of the family tree and revel in the pure light of the Force. 

However, the simmering anticipation singing in his blood kept dragging him back to the surface whenever he attempted to dive down into the cool depths. Anakin was suffused with a warmth that pooled low and heady in his stomach and lit up the synapses in his brain, Obi-Wan’s earlier whispered promises a lingering caress on his nerves. 

It was not fair to Ahsoka, who should have the entirety of his attention. Embarrassingly, he had pushed their study of the basics this morning a little further than he had planned. His intention to correct her too-long swings, to shorten her movements and excise any superfluous motion, was continuously dragged out by his inability to truly focus on the task at hand. Instead, his mind drifted too often to the heady suggestion of the evening to come. 

A little seed of shame sprouted at the base of his brainstem, its roots beginning to take hold in his mind. His Padwan deserved better from him. Forcibly gathering up his distractions he shoved them down, hoping to find new resolve.

Breathing deep and slow, Anakin instinctively reached out for the brightly humming presence of Ahsoka near him and, as one symbiotic unit, they launched into the cutting focus. Their blades whirled in a mirrored pattern as they faced each other, azure and emerald, blurring together as they increased the speed of their motions, too fast to follow with the naked eye. Anakin reached out instead with the force, tracking Ahsoka’s motions. At the end of the focus, they stepped forward and past one another with a triumphant shout, swinging their blades upwards in a grand earth-to-the-heavens arc. Closing his eyes as he lingered in the final stance, Anakin studied the after image, its pattern etched on his retinas. 

“Good,” he concluded, extinguishing his blade and turning to face his student. “You finally managed to correct the length of your cuts.”

“Finally!” Ahsoka exclaimed, letting out a whoop of pure joy. She eagerly held her hand up for a high-five, which Anakin met with good humour. “I didn’t think you’d let up. I hate focuses.” 

“You and every other padawan,” Anakin agreed with a chuckle. He had hated them when he had been a learner. Focuses required a lot of effort and yet were mindlessly repetitive and stationary. For someone as stir-crazy as Anakin, being asked to move and yet be still had been a trial in frustration. As a teacher, he could now appreciate the varying different focuses’ values. It was not the perceived death of a thousand cuts, but a cut perfected a thousand times. 

“So,” Ahsoka said, drawing out the vowel with a sly grin. “Now that we’ve practiced basics from here to Alderaan and back, can we  _ finally  _ spar?” 

“Well,” he said, folding his arms and shifting his weight onto one leg. “I suppose you have earned it.” 

“Oh, I am going to kick your ass in vengeance,” Ahsoka promised. 

Anakin laughed. “On second thought—”

“Oh no you don’t, I earned this!” 

“You have,” Anakin agreed. “But I think we both need to stretch out our legs a little. We were in  _ Ben _ 1 stance for a better part of an hour.” 

“Felt more like two,” Ahsoka grumbled. Bending her legs a little and wincing, she sighed, hanging her arms and letting them weigh her down somewhat. “Ugh, you’re right. My calves feel like jelly.” 

“Are you alright?” Anakin asked immediately, somewhat concerned that he might have pushed her too far, resting his hand companionably on her shoulder. 

“I’m fine,  _ Jaieh _ 2,” Ahsoka huffed, waving him off, most likely sensing the spike in his anxiety. Anakin’s shields were good but sometimes his emotions slipped through the cracks the way verdant plantlife broke through stone. More and more of them appeared every day, seeking an escape. “Nothing a good stretch won’t fix.” 

“If you’re sure…”

“Yes, I’m sure! You’re fussing again,” Ahsoka teased, punching Anakin lightly in the arm. “Obi-Wan was right when he called you a worrywart.” 

Anakin reached over and attempted to shove Ahsoka with one hand but she nimbly danced out of his reach, laughing with a carefree joy he had not heard from her in some time and her airy force signature mirrored it, feeling like a playful breeze. He often wondered what she might have been like without the war, living an apprenticeship more akin to his own or Obi-Wan’s. Would he worry so much about her in a galaxy that only knew peace? 

Would she even be his Padawan?

“Your head really is in the clouds today,” Ahsoka quipped, drawing Anakin out of the downward spiral he was slipping into. He blinked at her sharp grin. “Which means it’ll be easy for me to win.” 

“Oh really?”

“Yup, easy as picking meiloorun from a low hanging branch!” 

Anakin snorted. “It’s that sort of overconfidence that’s going to trip you up, Snips.”

“Nope! I have a good feeling about it and you can’t change that,” Ahsoka insisted, bouncing on her feet and running over to the side of the room where their water canteens rested, launching into a cartwheel with a whoop of excitement when she was halfway there. Anakin watched her and shook his head fondly as he sunk into a stretch, working out the stiffness in his hamstrings. He remembered having similar exuberance and energy, feeling such joy in the Force that he had to  _ move _ just to let it out. He also recalled Obi-Wan’s exasperated fondness when he got up to such antics. 

He still felt like that sometimes, the need to move, to dance with celebration with the _kaital_3, but the growing sombre _xari_ 4 of the Force on Coruscant made the moments scarce. 

Ahsoka eventually made her way back over and began to limber up with him, groaning emphatically at specific points that stretched out her sore muscles in a particularly poignant way. Anakin rolled his eyes.

“Still think you’re going to win?” He teased, giving one of her lekku a playful flick with the Force after he finished up. “Even Master Yoda’s old joints don’t creak that much.”

She looked up, determination set in her face. “Absolutely,  _ Jaieh _ !” 

“That’s my girl.” 

Ahsoka darted towards the centre of the sparring square before veering to the side to go grab her sabres where she had set them down, all flailing limbs and adolescent joy. Anakin retrieved his own and waited for her. He let his mind reach out and allowed her simple happiness to drag him along and bolster him against the turmoil brewing in his soul. Ahsoka came darting back over and bounced on the balls of her feet. 

“Alright,  _ now  _ I’m ready!” 

“You sure? Want to take another lap around the room, Snips?” Anakin asked, twirling his finger around in a circle. 

“No thanks,” Ahsoka quipped back, all sharp teeth. “I’m good!” 

Anakin brought his hands up, the left one flat across at navel height and palm towards the floor while the right was held up vertically at chest level as though in prayer, and bowed to his Padwan. Ahsoka mirrored him, though her bow was slightly deeper, a sign of respect for her opponent and Master. When they rose they leapt away from one another, drawing their respective lightsabres, and activated them in a burst of plasma. 

Sparring with Ahsoka was not so different from sparring with Obi-Wan. She may be an apprentice but she took to their line’s traditions like a fish to water, excelling in the art of the sabre. Anakin could connect with her on an instinctual level; he was the bough from which her own branch grew, after all. Those moments where they fit together, each parry and cut flowing into the next, sang a song that was entirely their own and he could feel the Force rejoice around them with harmonized tones. 

But Ahsoka was still an apprentice. As much joy as Anakin took in these moments where they flowed around one another he could not get as lost in the rhythm as he could with Obi-Wan. Sparring with his Master was an exchange of the minds, a pure act of creation and passion. It was as intimate as sex in many respects, their vulnerabilities exposed as they danced around each other. Sparring with his Padawan, no matter their easy connection, was more about education. Ahsoka, for all that she was a prodigy, still had much to learn. 

“You’re slouching forward,” Anakin told her as he jumped over a low scissor cut.

“I don’t need to have perfect form in a spar, Skyguy,” Ahsoka snapped, spinning out of the way of his oncoming overhand strike. “Or a real fight!” 

“Perfect form exists for us to draw the most from our technique,” He corrected, pivoting to parry her subsequent attacks, calmly retreating to give them both breathing room. “If you overbalance yourself in a fight against Ventress she’ll take immediate advantage. Keep your back straight!” 

Ahsoka growled, baring all her sharp teeth at him like the predator her species once naturally were. Still are, Anakin mentally corrected, as she bore down on him again with fervour, channelling the overwhelming assault that Jar’Kai was designed for. Anakin planted his feet, sinking into the  long stance, and transformed into an immovable object Ahsoka could continually throw herself against and not break. He was the boulder of Soresu, stalwart and stubborn until the end, meeting the crashing wave of Djem So interpreted through Jar’Kai. 

“Soresu won’t save you,  _ Jaieh _ ,” Ahsoka taunted, dancing around him. 

Anakin switched to the  short stance , still strong but infinitely more agile, letting each of her blows meet his sabre and slide off like rainwater. “I think it serves Master Obi-Wan quite well.”

“Yeah, there’s just one problem.”

“What’s that, Snips?” 

“You’re not Master Obi-Wan,” she jeered, and reached out with the Force, tugging his leading foot out from under him as she spun and delivered a roundhouse kick to his side, sending Anakin toppling. Using the momentum, he tumbled when he hit the ground, narrowly avoiding the strike Ahsoka intended to end the spar. Rolling nimbly onto his feet he danced away from her, laughing with exhilaration. 

“Oh that was  _ good _ ,” Anakin complimented, grinning wide and almost wicked. “My little proper Padawan, learning to  _ fight dirty _ .” 

Ahsoka mock curtsied, her pinky fingers sticking out off her sabres, her grin equally sharp. “Why thank you,  _ Jaieh _ . I learned from the best.” 

“Damn right you did,” he agreed, resetting his guard and preparing to engage her once more.

“Masterfully done, Padawan Tano.” 

It was practically a pavlovian response at this point, the way Anakin whirled around at the deep voice, finding Mace Windu standing at the entrance to the training salle. The Master of the Order raised an eyebrow at both of them, his dark eyes inscrutable as always. 

“Pardon the interruption,” he said drolly. 

“ _ Jesara _ _5,  _ Master Windu,” Anakin and Ahsoka greeted in tandem, bowing deeply after extinguishing their lightsabers. 

“Why am I not surprised to find you both here sparring after just completing a long campaign,” Windu remarked, a hint of a wry smile twisting his lips. “Most Jedi would find constant fighting exhausting.”

“It helps take our minds off things,” Anakin said defensively, clipping his sabre to his belt. Master Windu rarely showed up without a reason and Anakin felt himself immediately becoming suspicious.

“And we can’t get too complacent, we probably won’t be here for too long before we’re sent off again,” Ahsoka added, bouncing on the balls of her feet again with nervous energy.

“Unfortunately, that’s very true,” Master Windu sighed. “Though I would recommend you get some time in for meditation, Padawan Tano, to recontextualize your thoughts and centre yourself.” 

“Yes, Master Windu,” Ahsoka replied, folding her hands in front of her. “I’ll find the time to work some in.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with having a little fun,” Master Windu said, displaying venerable gentleness. “There’s very little time for it in war, so we try to find it where we can. I just caution you to also seek balance in yourself. You are young and resilient, but resilience must be shored up with periods of peace.” 

“Well,” Ahsoka said, shooting Anakin a glance. “I was going to spend the evening with my crèchemates, seeing as most of us are actually at the Temple for once.  _ Jaieh  _ was going to let me use our apartment to host.” 

“I was?” Anakin asked, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow. 

“Yup,” Ahsoka said as she smiled cheekily. “You’re going to spend the night at Master Obi-Wan’s, after all. We don’t find balance just in meditation but also in maintaining our interpersonal relationships.” 

To Anakin’s surprise, Mace Windu actually huffed out a chuckle. “Well spoken, Padawan Tano.”

“ _ Qahsreash _ 6, Master Windu,” she replied, bowing to the Master of the Order. 

“Now,” Master Windu said. “I’m going to borrow your Master for a while, if that is alright with you.” 

“Unh,” Ahsoka looked at Anakin again. He could feel her internal grimace and baffled inquiry of  _ ‘what did you do, Jaieh’  _ across their bond. Anakin shrugged in response. “I guess that’s alright.” 

“ _ Qahreash _ ,” Master Windu said dryly. 

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Anakin groused, looking between the two as Ahsoka went to gather her things.

“Not particularly, no,” Master Windu told him. 

“I thought the Council was going to be in session all day,” Anakin interrogated, putting a hand on his hip. 

“We took an unexpected recess,” Master Windu explained, folding his hands into the sleeves of his robes and squaring off his shoulders. “Things got heated and we adjourned to give everyone time to reconsider their positions.” 

“The council got into an argument?” Anakin asked, baffled. 

“It happens more often than you would think,” Master Windu said. “If the council agreed on everything there would be cause for concern, Skywalker.” 

“Harmony within discord?” 

“A poetic way of putting it, but yes.” 

Anakin pursed his lips and frowned a little, suddenly feeling annoyed that it was Master Windu who showed up to visit them and not Obi-Wan. Had something changed since this morning? Did Obi-Wan not want to see him? Had they been talking about him at the council meeting? An anxious feeling settled in his stomach and he defensively crossed his arms over his chest. Master Windu stared back at him placidly and let an awkward silence settle around them.

“Are you going to come back to the apartment later,  _ Jaieh _ ?” Ahsoka asked, cutting the strange tension. She had her robes back on and her bag over her shoulder. Anakin blinked. 

“No, I think I’ll just head straight for Master Obi-Wan’s,” he decided. “Have fun with your friends tonight, and don’t make too big of a mess.” 

“Thanks! You’re the best,  _ Jaieh! _ ” She exclaimed, punching him in the shoulder before darting out the door. 

“I think she might have me wrapped around her finger a little,” Anakin admitted, somewhat sheepishly after a moment of silence, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“That’s been obvious for some time, Skywalker.”

“So, what did you need to ‘borrow’ me for?” Anakin asked, fingers wiggling in imitation of quotation marks. “Am I in trouble for the last mission?” 

“You are not in trouble, Skywalker. We would have brought up any concerns during your debrief on the Resolute after the battle,” Master Windu explained. Under the gaze of his unfathomable eyes, Anakin felt like one of the specimens Obi-Wan had loved to bring back to the temple and study in the years before the war. He tried not to squirm, rooted to the spot. It often felt like he had been subject to the Master of the Jedi Order’s incisive glare more than any other Knight in the order and he still was not immune. Finally, Master Windu jerked his head in the direction of Anakin’s robes. “Grab your things, we’re going on a walk.” 

Anakin hesitated. 

“Um, do I have to?” 

“You’ve just been volun _told_ _. _ ”

“Was… was that a  _ pun _ ,  _ Jaieh _ ?”

“ _ Skywalker _ .”

“Right, yes, right,” Anakin huffed, jogging over to his robes and pulling them on hastily, trying to hide within their voluminous layers and use them as a shield. As he made his way back over to Master Windu he straightened his shoulders and imitated an elaborate courtly Noobian bow. “At your leisure,  _ Jaieh _ .”

Master Windu rolled his eyes good-naturedly and stalked out of the training salle with a sweep of his robes. Exhaling with unguarded annoyance, Anakin followed him and quickly matched his swift pace. 

The Temple’s halls were quiet and relatively empty, a stark reminder that the Order was stretched thin by the war. Anakin remembered a time when the grand halls echoed with greetings and laughter; now, they were comparatively empty and echoed with the sound of their boots on the polished floors. It still felt like home, but more and more the warmth was diminishing. After all, home was not just a place, but a people, and the Jedi’s numbers were dwindling the longer the war dragged on.

He had not realized how sad the silence made him.

“How are you feeling?” 

Master Windu’s deep voice cut through Anakin’s ruminations like a sabre, clean and precise. Instinctively, he almost snapped back ‘fine’, always feeling inherently defensive when dealing with Mace Windu. Instead, he took a deep breath, letting the cool air fill his lungs and buoy him. 

“A little tired behind the eyes,” he admitted after a moment. “But that’s normal at this point.” 

The expression on Windu’s face projected his opinion on that:  _ ‘bantha shit’. _ “Is that so?” 

Anakin let his arms flop to his sides with a smack as they rounded a corner, heading towards the outdoor gardens. “What do you want me to say,  _ Jaieh _ ?”

“Obi-Wan said you had a breakdown yesterday. Why don’t we start with that.” 

“ _ Xhax _ 7, you really cut to the chase, don’t you?” 

“I find beating around the bush a waste of time,” Windu said wryly. He sounded tired despite his firm words. “And you have never responded well to a gentle approach when it comes to correction.” 

Anakin bit the inside of his cheek in irritation. He responded to gentle correction perfectly well—when it was from the right person. 

“I already talked about it with Obi-Wan,” he muttered, pulling his robes about himself tighter. The wriggling shame inside him has begun to rear its ugly head, rising from the inky black pit in his core. 

“And Obi-Wan came to me,” Master Windu explained. “And I’m glad he did.” 

“You’re  _ glad _ ?” Anakin asked, baffled. “You hate dealing with my bantha crap.” 

“It’s not bantha crap when you’re hurting, Anakin.” 

Something inside his heart cracked open. Feeling hot tears prickle in his eyes Anakin sped up, outpacing Master Windu and rushing out down the steps and into the garden. The air was colder out here, fresh and clean, and his breath misted in foggy clouds as soft feathery flakes descended from the dove-grey sky. The rain he had predicted earlier had transformed as the temperature dropped. A light dusting of early snow had begun to settle on the moss-covered rocks and the evergreen needles of the twisting pines that composed the meditation garden. Holding out his flesh hand Anakin let the delicate white crystals fall onto his palm, watching as they quickly melted. 

How immaterial the world ultimately was, and how quickly things passed. 

A solid, comforting hand rested itself on his shoulder. Mace Windu’s presence in the Force always reminded Anakin of a river, steady and completely sure of its course and taking everyone along with it. 

“ _Tumi soo’ah kareh ehnoctak_ 8,” Anakin finally said, blinking back his tears. 

“Yes,” Master Windu said, with a terrible finality. The acknowledgement shook something deep in Anakin’s core. Curling a broad hand around his elbow, Windu gently but firmly guided them both over to some sitting stones, brushing the dusting of white powder off them with a sleeve. 

“This conflict will have generational consequences for the Order,” Master Windu said as he took a seat, drawing his legs up into a lotus meditation pose, hands resting on both his knees. “Whether we wish it or not, our future children will be impacted by the effects this war had on us. Our experiences are passed down through our teaching, deliberately and indirectly. This is why we need to be proactive now. You need to talk to someone before this becomes an unmanageable problem with fallout that will affect more than just yourself.”

Anakin took the seat across from Master Windu, hands twisting in his lap. He did not meet his gaze, eyes firmly planted on the ground. “I talked to Obi-Wan about it.” 

“As you said before,” Master Windu intoned, wryly. He then sighed. “There is nothing wrong with unburdening yourself to your  _ Jaieh _ , or your lover—”

Anakin choked, eyes flying up to see the somewhat fondly amused expression on Master Windu’s face. 

“If you think Obi-Wan did not tell me about your relationship you are sorely mistaken,” Master Windu said sardonically. “And even if he had not,  _ you  _ are hardly subtle.” 

Anakin glared half-heartedly. Windu met it with his own calmly collected stare. 

“As I was saying,” he continued. “There is nothing wrong with talking about your issues with Obi-Wan. The problem comes when you begin to rely on Obi-Wan as your only source of stability. That can transform an otherwise healthy relationship into attachment.”

And there was the rug pull, the dull white noise of realization ringing in Anakin’s ears. He was suddenly aware of how cold the stone was, the frigid stillness of the air. It reminded him of Illum, deep in the caves, a place of spiritual enlightenment and self-discovery. His heart tightened, anxiousness squeezing his throat.

“The root of attachment is fear,” Anakin said hesitantly. 

“It is,” Windu agreed. “And it feeds into many things, including our interactions with loved ones and family. You fear losing people, and if you are not careful, your love will become selfish. How much is your love for Obi-Wan for who he is himself and how much is for how he makes you feel? If you do not start having these kinds of conversations with yourself and with someone not so intimately tied to you a lot of people might end up hurt.” 

“I—” Anakin paused, turned his next words over carefully, for once not impulsively lashing out at the accusation. “I’m not comfortable burdening others with my problems.” 

Master Windu tilted his head. “And why is that?” 

“I should be stronger. I shouldn’t need to unburden myself.” 

“Because you are the  _ Daisha _ 9?”

Anakin shrugged his right shoulder. “I guess.” 

Windu closed his eyes and took in a long slow breath before he exhaled it, plumes of steam misting on the air. 

“What is the one skill all sentient species are born with?” 

Anakin blinked. “Pardon?”

Master Windu opened his eyes and pinned Anakin with his dark gaze. “Most lifeforms are born with their key survival tactic in place. While sentient species across the galaxy differ in form, intelligence and longevity we are all born with the same important skill. What is it?” 

“I don’t know,” Anakin muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t have much interaction with infants. He shrugged, shoulders hunching. “Babies cry a lot.” 

“Yes. They do.” 

The silence between felt poignant, and Anakin tried to grasp at the meaning. Why do babies cry? There were a lot of reasons, but he knew Master Windu was imploring him to look at the bigger picture, the whole context, and not the individual situations. When it finally clicked into place an embarrassed flush crossed his cheeks. 

“They can’t do it themselves, so they ask for help.” 

“Well done,” Master Windu said. He may not have said  _ ‘finally’  _ but Anakin could read it plain as daylight across his face. 

Anakin chuckled with self-depreciation. “Are you implying I'm an infant,  _ Jaieh _ ?”

Windu snorted. “There are some days, but not today. I wouldn’t belittle your struggles that way.” 

“Oh…” Anakin said, humbled. A little ember inside him glowed, and it felt warm against the cool stillness of the garden. “So… what do I do now? Do I talk to you?” 

“Force, no,” Windu deadpanned. “My job, as the Master of the Order, maybe to care for and watch over all the Jedi but I am hardly a trained psychiatrist or therapist. I suggest you talk to the healers, perhaps Master Eerin. She might be able to point you in the right direction.” 

“To the mind healers, probably,” Anakin muttered darkly. 

“Potentially, that’s up for a professional and you to decide. You don’t have to do any of this. No one will force you to do anything. However, you do owe it to yourself, your battalion, your Padawan and the Order to take better care of your mental health,” Master Windu said, unfolding his legs and standing. He brushed some of the snow from the shoulders of his robes. 

Anakin remained seated. “I feel like a failure,  _ Jaieh _ .” 

Master Windu gazed down at him, his eyes soft despite his grave expression. “Hardly. We all face our own struggles, Skywalker, and they’re never equal. Do not judge yourself against your peers. It does not make you weak.” 

“Easy to say, harder to do.” 

“ _ Do or do not _ ,” Windu replied, his baritone imparting significantly more weight to one of Master Yoda’s favourite adages, as something caught his attention behind Anakin’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Anakin said with a small huff of a laugh, craning his head to look behind him. Standing a respectfully polite distance away, Obi-Wan waited beneath the bows of one of the pines, his hood raised against the chill. Lifting a hand he waved to both of them, which Anakin returned somewhat awkwardly. 

“I think I will leave you two to chat,” Master Windu said, an amused edge to his voice. Anakin scrambled to stand and, while it wasn’t particularly deep, he still executed a respectful bow. 

“ _ Qahsreash, Jaieh _ .”

A solid hand settled on his shoulder and Anakin raised his gaze to Master Windu’s. The man said nothing but still Anakin could feel a sense of understanding and pride pass between them. The little ember inside grew warmer and he ducked his head slightly at the unspoken but still keenly felt praise. Nodding, Master Windu stepped away and around him, making his way back to the Temple. 

“You don’t have much time left, Obi-Wan,” he said clearly as he passed the other Master. “The recess is almost over.”

“Don’t worry,” Obi-Wan chuckled. “I’m never late.” 

“ _ Bantha crap. _ ” 

Obi-Wan laughed out right now, making his way over to Anakin. “You’ll stall for me.” 

Mace Windu looked over his shoulder and shot Obi-Wan an unimpressed look. “Yoda might, but I certainly won’t.” 

Obi-Wan waved him off with a slight smile and turned concerned eyes on Anakin. Once Master Windu had disappeared back into the Temple, Anakin all but threw himself into Obi-Wan’s waiting arms, burrowing his face into his neck and hiding under the hood with him. His Master still smelled like he did earlier that morning when they had kissed goodbye, the pleasing mix of the Temple’s standard soap and the faint cologne he indulged in. A hand settled on top of Anakin’s head and began gently carding through his hair, brushing away the accumulating snowflakes. 

“I’m sorry, dear one,” Obi-Wan murmured. The words brought traitorous tears back into the corners of Anakin’s eyes. He chewed his lip for a moment before lifting his head. With his mechanical hand, he reached up and tugged Obi-Wan’s hood down. 

“Don’t be sorry,” Anakin whispered, pressing their foreheads together. “I… I think I needed to hear that.” 

Obi-Wan continued to pet his curls, the cold tip of his nose brushing Anakin’s. “I have only ever wanted you to thrive and succeed,  _ Ankai’a _ 10. ” 

“I know,” Anakin admitted, a lone tear finally spilling over. Obi-Wan’s faith and love for him could at times be overwhelming. Obi-Wan made a soothing sound, soft and sibilant, as he cupped his cheek and thumbed the tear away. 

“You understand, why I had to talk to him?” 

Anakin nodded, their noses rubbing together as he did so. “Yes,  _ Jaieh _ . I’m not upset.”

Obi-Wan did not sound convinced. “Anakin, you’re  _ crying _ .”

Anakin paused to consider himself, running his fingers over his emotions like words on a page. He found betrayal was not there, not anymore. There was an ache, but it was the ache of tension released, like his muscles after a hard-won fight, when he could finally rest. He found catharsis and overwhelming love, not only for Obi-Wan, but the Jedi as a whole as well. 

“It’s relief,” he said softly, surprised. “I thought I had to be strong and face it on my own, that no one would want to help me, but I was wrong.” 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan breathed, sounding pained. “If I, or anyone else, ever made you think—”

“—you didn’t,” Anakin interrupted, pressing his flesh fingers gently against Obi-Wan’s lips. “You have all been nothing but kind and accepting. I don’t… I don’t know where I learned it. Maybe it’s always been there in me, I think I’ve always known.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes, pale and grey in the overcast light, softened as he clasped Anakin’s fingers in his own and pressed a reverent kiss to the knuckles, holding them there for a moment. “No one is born thinking they’re a burden, Anakin.” 

Anakin wanted to object; an early life spent in slavery and poverty had shown him that he may have been his mother’s pride and joy, but he had not been an easy one. Burdens were still burdens, even when chosen with love. He could at least admit he was not born with the awareness. It was a conversation he was not keen to have, not now when he was feeling such strange lightness within. That little ember was glowing strong, like a candle flame cupped against the wind.

“I guess it’s something I need to work on,” he conceded, smiling a little and leaning into Obi-Wan’s hand which still lingered on his face. He let his smile grow, stretching into a droll grin. “But not today. I really want a nap.” 

Obi-Wan smiled in turn, chuckling. “Tuckered out?” 

“It’s been a bit of an emotional aerial dog fight of a day,” Anakin laughed ruefully. 

Obi-Wan let go of his hand and stepped back a little, adjusting Anakin’s robes and dusting the snow off them. It was beginning to come down harder. “Do you want to postpone our plans for tonight? You know scenes can be emotionally intense and you’ve already been through it today.” 

Anakin shook his head. “I’m tired but I feel good. I really want to be good for you tonight.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Anakin, I don’t want you pushing yourself. We can just spend the evening together, or, wonder of all wonders, just have sex.” 

Grabbing both of his Master’s hands, Anakin opened their bond, inviting Obi-Wan to see inside him clearly. He could feel the warm liquid touch slide through and around him, washing away the last traces of the inky darkness back down into the abyss of himself. He grinned, giddy, so full of Obi-Wan’s love in that moment. 

“I think I’ll be more than fine after a nap,” he promised, squeezing Obi-Wan’s hands. His Master squeezed back in turn, silent for a moment before he smiled, like the first rays of sunlight to peek through the clouds after a storm, bathing the world and Anakin with its light. 

“You never cease to amaze me, dear heart. I’m very proud of you.” 

Anakin flushed with pleasure, the praise making him feel giddy. Leaning forward he caught Obi-Wan’s mouth in a kiss, pouring all his unburdened happiness and love into it. His Master melted under it, lips parting as he was swept up in the rolling surf of Anakin’s unbridled joy and passion. Anakin tilted his head, deepening the kiss with a caress of his tongue as his hands came up to frame Obi-Wan’s face, fingers petting along his beard. 

It was with clear reluctance that Obi-Wan pulled away, and Anakin felt a little pride to see him blink away the hazy daze in his otherwise clear eyes. “Anakin, I need to get back to the council meeting.” 

Anakin playfully rolled his eyes, finding himself not upset in the slightest. They had the entire evening to look forward to, after all. “Try not to stay out too late. We have a hot date.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan chuckled, his smile softening. “Now, if you change your mind—”

“—you’ll find me in bed in your pyjamas, eating spicy fried crisps.” 

“Please don’t eat food in my bed, Anakin.” 

“My point still stands. Now go, you worry wort. I’m starting to think you don’t want to go finish this council meeting,” Anakin shot back, crossing his arms over his chest and raising an eyebrow. 

“Can you blame me?” Obi-Wan asks, wryly, as he begins to walk backwards in the direction of the Temple. 

“No,” Anakin laughed. Obi-Wan stopped, halfway into a turn, as if transfixed. There was a look of wonder on his face that melted eventually into a soft expression. 

“ _ Vii’ah foh keelak _ 11,” he called out, a smile splitting his face. 

A bubbly feeling welled up inside Anakin, like sparkling wine, and it just as easily went to his head. “I love you, too! Now go!” 

Obi-Wan laughed outright, the sound jubilant and a little self-mocking. The lines around his eyes deepened with his happiness and yet he looked younger than he had in years, snowflakes caught in his auburn hair and cheeks kissed red with the chill of the fresh air. It struck Anakin, as he watched his Master jog back up the steps and into the Temple, just how hopelessly in love he was with Obi-Wan and just how far gone Obi-Wan was in turn. It filled him with warmth, that small flame inside him stoked into a roaring fire. 

And for a moment, despite the chill and the snow falling around him, the darkness and the cold could not touch him in the face of his love for Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

* * *

1\. Dai Bendu for “endurance”. Most martial arts have a stationary stance that trains the muscles in your legs. The most common term you see in English is “horse” or “horse-riding” stance. The stance Anakin and Ahsoka were holding during the focus would not look like a classic horse-riding stance (the horse-riding stance in the martial art I practise certainly doesn’t!) and horses are not ubiquitous in the galaxy far far away. So I went with the Dai Bendu word for “endurance” and left the rest to your imagination. ↩

2\. Master.↩

3.The light side of the Force. ↩

4\. The dark side of the Force, but not Sith. Dai Bendu has its own word drawing a difference between the darkside and the darkside as it relates to Sith in particular.↩

5\. A respectful greeting or farewell.↩

6\. Thank you.↩

7\. Softly, but with meaning: fuck.↩

8\. We are all hurting. Lit. We (Jedi) are feeling (emotional) pain (mental). ↩

9\. The Chosen One. Lit. Force Born.↩

10\. Soulmate, heartstrong, darling.↩

11\. I love you.↩

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to say hi, stop by [my obikin tumblr](https://binaryeclipse.tumblr.com/) 💕


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